The masseuse gave me multiple orgasms.

page views:1 Publication date:2014-12-04

I once saw a post on a forum where a user mentioned a full-body oil massage, saying she felt so good she almost had an orgasm. I found it hard to believe because I've had a full-body oil massage before. It's a common beauty treatment; although you need to be completely naked, the masseuse doesn't touch erogenous zones like the nipples or genitals. It's comfortable, but generally doesn't provide any sexual pleasure.
I contacted the massage therapist listed on the blog and made an appointment. Following the therapist's directions, I found the place: an ordinary apartment. The therapist warmly invited me to the massage room (one of the rooms in the apartment). The room had a TV, a bed, a decent size, and was clean and tidy.
The therapist, with a professional smile, asked, "Would you like a full-body massage with oil?" I said yes. "Would you like a full-body massage with oil?" he asked again. I said yes, and then he closed the door and had me sit on the edge of the bed. He was about 30 years old, about 183 cm tall, with a good build, fair skin, and quite handsome—my type.
I suddenly felt a little embarrassed, since I had come with the intention of seeking "special services." However, this discomfort lasted only a second, because I told myself, "I'm a customer. What customer is afraid of a service worker? I'm a customer, I'm a customer," I thought to myself.
Then the masseur smiled and said, "Let me help you change." I stood up, and he unbuttoned my shirt and quickly took it off (including my bra). I felt awkward having him help me take off my pants, so I took them off myself, leaving my underwear on.
By then, he had already arranged the pillows and laid out a towel, and had me put on a disposable massage suit and lie face down on the bed. After I was settled, he said, "Let me help you take off your underwear," and then pulled it down from behind. This was clearly to avoid the embarrassment of the customer having to remove this last piece of clothing. Then he asked me how the air conditioning was, adjusted it, and asked if I wanted to watch TV or listen to music. I chose soft music, and he dimmed the red lights before beginning the service. Initially, he seemed very professional.
He started by massaging from my shoulders down my back with both hands. He carefully asked if my hands were cold, and if the pressure was too heavy. I've had many regular massages like this, so I'm quite used to it. It usually starts with the back and waist, then the buttocks, legs, and feet, then the arms, and then the client turns over—it seems to follow this order everywhere. However, because I was now thinking about "special services," I started to think in a more sensual way, so every time he touched my bare skin with his hands, it felt a little more "that" kind of... I found that once my mind was set on "that," it really did feel different. Even before he touched any sensitive areas, I felt aroused.
I chatted with him, just small talk. He spoke very nicely and very carefully. I asked him if he had many female clients, and he said not many. I asked if only women came here, and he said yes, they only catered to women. After chatting for a while, we ran out of things to say and just remained silent.
His massage was indeed very comfortable; I felt my genitals getting a little wet, probably because I was anticipating it. When he told me to turn over, my heart raced because I knew he was going to massage my breasts. My face flushed slightly, but thankfully the lighting wasn't too bright, so he probably wouldn't notice. I immediately closed my eyes after turning over. He covered my genitals with a towel and moved to face me…
At that moment, he asked, “Is there anything you don’t want me to massage?”
Out of curiosity, I asked, “What about other customers?” He said, “Some customers don’t want their nipples massaged, saying those are reserved for their husbands.” We both laughed. That laugh washed away all the embarrassment.
I asked, “What about most people?” He said, “It doesn’t matter, I just massage everywhere, it’s quite comfortable.” I said, “I don’t mind either.”
Perhaps because I was facing a stranger of the opposite sex, the moment his hands slid over my nipples, I actually trembled slightly and made a soft “ss” sound. The feeling of his skillful hands massaging my nipples was amazing! I believe many women experience some kind of sexual pleasure at this moment, though they might also feel embarrassed. So, he confidently said, "Feels good, right? Lots of people come here, it's very effective. People are so tired from work these days, come relax after work..."
I now believe what the blog says because I noticed he was observing me. He noticed I really enjoyed his breast massage, so he repeatedly pushed my breasts. After a while, he used a very comfortable movement: starting from my armpits, he stroked my breasts and nipples with both hands, pushing down along my ribs, all the way to the side of my buttocks, then flipped back... Then he did it in the opposite direction: starting from my neck, pushing down past my breasts and abdomen, until he touched my pubic hair, then pulling back from the side. Every time he pushed down to my genitals, I felt very excited, my body seemed to be anticipating him to continue downwards... I stopped talking because I was a little embarrassed.
I felt like he was pushing a little further into my genitals, as if he was seducing me. Then, he did something I never expected: he stopped his hands on my breasts and started rapidly rubbing my nipples with his fingers! It was a very stimulating action. He said, "Feels good, doesn't it?" My expression must have been very strange at that moment. I bit my lip and said, "Mmm—ah—." As he continued to caress my nipples, I closed my eyes and moaned because I couldn't control myself. Massaging my nipples was really stimulating; I felt like my brain was working...
He slowly rotated and massaged my breasts with both palms...
A short story mentions a female customer developing some unspoken feelings for the male masseur during a massage. That's just the novelist's romantic imagination. In reality, our relationship was purely financial; I paid, and he provided the service. I think many women would lose interest if they thought about this, because the intimacy they seek isn't physical or emotional. Personally, I've
always enjoyed massages because I feel that whether you go for a beauty treatment or to see a doctor, it's for your health, so you should try to relax; otherwise, you're just paying money to suffer. Men and women sometimes ask, if there's a physical need, why not find a man? I think the reason is the same as with masturbation: many men and women masturbate either because their sexual partner isn't available in bed, or because the orgasm from masturbation and the orgasm from sex are not interchangeable; each has its own merits. Although I have my husband with me in my daily life, he can't give me the same delicate caresses and relaxation that professional male masseuses can. Psychologically, my husband is the active party, the conqueror; the male masseur is someone I paid for, a professional, serving me. So, a male masseur can't compare to my husband when giving me a massage.
At this point, he didn't continue but went out. He came back half a minute later with a hot towel, gently wiped off the oil from my body, and had me turn over and lie face down. I wanted to ask why, but I was too embarrassed to say, guessing: this is probably part of the service. I later realized I was right. To retain repeat customers, they massage for a sufficient amount of time each time, making the customer feel it's worthwhile.
He started from my back again, but this time it felt different. He gently stroked and caressed my back and waist like a lover... It felt like his hands had more than twenty fingers, as if many fingers covered every nerve ending... He kept stroking me, and I let out soft moans: "Ah... Oh..."
I quickly became aroused; my genitals felt even wetter, and my lower body unconsciously rubbed against the towel beneath me. I heard him take off his shoes, kneel behind me, and gently massage my buttocks and waist. These are both erogenous zones for women, and he certainly wouldn't miss them. His massage felt so good that I instinctively arched my buttocks. But he didn't immediately stimulate my core. He knelt forward slightly, leaned down, and started with his hands, moving them from my buttocks, down my waist and back, then sliding to my sides, reaching forward to touch my breasts! I couldn't resist; when he touched my nipples, I made "oh oh" sounds and inhaled deeply. He responded with a few moans as he continued to rub my nipples. I felt the nerves in my nipples were directly connected to my brain, the stimulation sending waves of sensation through me, as if my whole body was dissolving, and my genitals were gushing with fluid. I unconsciously raised my upper body so he could grasp my breasts, while my body involuntarily and helplessly twisted, continuing to moan "Mmm—ah—mmm." He probably thought my moans were too loud, so he got up, turned up the music, and came back to continue in the same position. Because his caresses of my breasts felt so good, my sensations were focused on my breasts and lower body, and I was less sensitive to my lower back. So, although he was making large circular motions (from my buttocks, waist, back to my breasts, and then back across my abdomen), he mainly focused on my breasts. I must have been very out of control at that moment: moaning with my buttocks raised.
He sat up and gently pressed my lower back. I understood and lay down. He put some oil on his hands and sprinkled some into my buttocks. Oh my god, I knew he was probably going to massage my anus, but then I thought, it can't be, right? Before I could think any further, his fingers were already there.
He was really good at it: he used both hands to alternately stroke my buttocks, and each time he passed my anus, I would get excited. He stroked it repeatedly, and the excitement was like a series of throbbing movements. I guess by then my vaginal fluids had soaked into the towel. He then spoke: "Feels good, doesn't it?" I didn't answer, just hummed softly. He then placed his fingers around my anus, massaging, rotating, and gently wriggling, while his other hand pressed against my buttocks, making me feel so good…
He must have known I was enjoying it, so his professional moans grew louder. By this time, I was starting to feel something for him, and blushing, I said, "You're only using your hands? Can you use your body to push me?" He answered expertly, "You mean using your body? Hmm—I'm fine with that, but you'll have to give me an extra 1000 yuan. This kind of thing is physically demanding." I thought, since we've already done it, and it feels so good, I might as well take it. So I agreed. He pressed himself against me from behind, his arms in front of my head, and I immediately felt his penis rubbing against my back, tickling me. His professional moans grew louder; I didn't know how much of it was genuine, but he must have felt good himself. He pressed down on me further, massaging me with his body while asking, "Tell me if you're pressing too hard." I said, "It's okay, it's good, it feels so good!" This kind of back massage felt better than his hands because of the larger contact area, and it was his sensitive area, giving it a more intimate, skin-to-skin feel. He massaged my back with his body, then gradually moved downwards, circling my buttocks…
I felt a little embarrassed at this point, after all, it was physical contact between a man and a woman, but he probably didn't care and continued, inserting his penis into my buttocks and stroking it back and forth… I was already on the verge of orgasm, and I became bolder, so I simply said, "Could you massage my buttocks again with your hands?" I made this request because his massage of my anus felt so good earlier; I felt like I was about to orgasm. He said, "Okay." Then, he massaged my anus just like before. I felt that "orgasm" was coming soon, so I said, "Keep doing this, don't stop—don't stop..." He said, "Okay, I won't stop." And he even increased the volume of his moans. I'd never orgasmed from an anal massage before, and of course, no one had ever caressed my buttocks for so long before touching my genitals, but this time—I really—orgasmed… My genitals were pressed tightly against the towel, and when he teased my butt crack with his fingers, I felt my clitoris throbbing… Ah… I orgasmed!
Afraid of making too much noise, I bit my lip to suppress my moans… And so, he repeated his professional massage movements over and over, and I trembled and surged towards orgasm again and again…
After each wave of orgasm, I panted as I reached down to touch my genitals: Ah—my vaginal opening and the towel below were completely soaked!
“Sis, do you want to rest for a bit?” I said, “Okay.”
I sat up and saw that I was completely naked, and he was also completely naked, his penis hard and erect… He lifted a corner of the towel and wiped the fluid from my genitals. I felt embarrassed, but seeing his focused expression, I relaxed. Then he gently pulled off the wet towel and placed a clean one on top. He put on his shirt, got out of bed, put on his pants, and went outside...I once saw a post on a forum where a user mentioned a full-body oil massage, saying she felt so good she almost had an orgasm. I found it hard to believe because I've had a full-body oil massage before. It's a common beauty treatment; although you need to be completely naked, the masseuse doesn't touch erogenous zones like the nipples or genitals. It's comfortable, but generally doesn't provide any sexual pleasure.
I contacted the massage therapist listed on the blog and made an appointment. Following the therapist's directions, I found the place: an ordinary apartment. The therapist warmly invited me to the massage room (one of the rooms in the apartment). The room had a TV, a bed, a decent size, and was clean and tidy.
The therapist, with a professional smile, asked, "Would you like a full-body massage with oil?" I said yes. "Would you like a full-body massage with oil?" he asked again. I said yes, and then he closed the door and had me sit on the edge of the bed. He was about 30 years old, about 183 cm tall, with a good build, fair skin, and quite handsome—my type.
I suddenly felt a little embarrassed, since I had come with the intention of seeking "special services." However, this discomfort lasted only a second, because I told myself, "I'm a customer. What customer is afraid of a service worker? I'm a customer, I'm a customer," I thought to myself.
Then the masseur smiled and said, "Let me help you change." I stood up, and he unbuttoned my shirt and quickly took it off (including my bra). I felt awkward having him help me take off my pants, so I took them off myself, leaving my underwear on.
By then, he had already arranged the pillows and laid out a towel, and had me put on a disposable massage suit and lie face down on the bed. After I was settled, he said, "Let me help you take off your underwear," and then pulled it down from behind. This was clearly to avoid the embarrassment of the customer having to remove this last piece of clothing. Then he asked me how the air conditioning was, adjusted it, and asked if I wanted to watch TV or listen to music. I chose soft music, and he dimmed the red lights before beginning the service. Initially, he seemed very professional.
He started by massaging from my shoulders down my back with both hands. He carefully asked if my hands were cold, and if the pressure was too heavy. I've had many regular massages like this, so I'm quite used to it. It usually starts with the back and waist, then the buttocks, legs, and feet, then the arms, and then the client turns over—it seems to follow this order everywhere. However, because I was now thinking about "special services," I started to think in a more sensual way, so every time he touched my bare skin with his hands, it felt a little more "that" kind of... I found that once my mind was set on "that," it really did feel different. Even before he touched any sensitive areas, I felt aroused.
I chatted with him, just small talk. He spoke very nicely and very carefully. I asked him if he had many female clients, and he said not many. I asked if only women came here, and he said yes, they only catered to women. After chatting for a while, we ran out of things to say and just remained silent.
His massage was indeed very comfortable; I felt my genitals getting a little wet, probably because I was anticipating it. When he told me to turn over, my heart raced because I knew he was going to massage my breasts. My face flushed slightly, but thankfully the lighting wasn't too bright, so he probably wouldn't notice. I immediately closed my eyes after turning over. He covered my genitals with a towel and moved to face me…
At that moment, he asked, “Is there anything you don’t want me to massage?”
Out of curiosity, I asked, “What about other customers?” He said, “Some customers don’t want their nipples massaged, saying those are reserved for their husbands.” We both laughed. That laugh washed away all the embarrassment.
I asked, “What about most people?” He said, “It doesn’t matter, I just massage everywhere, it’s quite comfortable.” I said, “I don’t mind either.”
Perhaps because I was facing a stranger of the opposite sex, the moment his hands slid over my nipples, I actually trembled slightly and made a soft “ss” sound. The feeling of his skillful hands massaging my nipples was amazing! I believe many women experience some kind of sexual pleasure at this moment, though they might also feel embarrassed. So, he confidently said, "Feels good, right? Lots of people come here, it's very effective. People are so tired from work these days, come relax after work..."
I now believe what the blog says because I noticed he was observing me. He noticed I really enjoyed his breast massage, so he repeatedly pushed my breasts. After a while, he used a very comfortable movement: starting from my armpits, he stroked my breasts and nipples with both hands, pushing down along my ribs, all the way to the side of my buttocks, then flipped back... Then he did it in the opposite direction: starting from my neck, pushing down past my breasts and abdomen, until he touched my pubic hair, then pulling back from the side. Every time he pushed down to my genitals, I felt very excited, my body seemed to be anticipating him to continue downwards... I stopped talking because I was a little embarrassed.
I felt like he was pushing a little further into my genitals, as if he was seducing me. Then, he did something I never expected: he stopped his hands on my breasts and started rapidly rubbing my nipples with his fingers! It was a very stimulating action. He said, "Feels good, doesn't it?" My expression must have been very strange at that moment. I bit my lip and said, "Mmm—ah—." As he continued to caress my nipples, I closed my eyes and moaned because I couldn't control myself. Massaging my nipples was really stimulating; I felt like my brain was working...
He slowly rotated and massaged my breasts with both palms...
A short story mentions a female customer developing some unspoken feelings for the male masseur during a massage. That's just the novelist's romantic imagination. In reality, our relationship was purely financial; I paid, and he provided the service. I think many women would lose interest if they thought about this, because the intimacy they seek isn't physical or emotional. Personally, I've
always enjoyed massages because I feel that whether you go for a beauty treatment or to see a doctor, it's for your health, so you should try to relax; otherwise, you're just paying money to suffer. Men and women sometimes ask, if there's a physical need, why not find a man? I think the reason is the same as with masturbation: many men and women masturbate either because their sexual partner isn't available in bed, or because the orgasm from masturbation and the orgasm from sex are not interchangeable; each has its own merits. Although I have my husband with me in my daily life, he can't give me the same delicate caresses and relaxation that professional male masseuses can. Psychologically, my husband is the active party, the conqueror; the male masseur is someone I paid for, a professional, serving me. So, a male masseur can't compare to my husband when giving me a massage.
At this point, he didn't continue but went out. He came back half a minute later with a hot towel, gently wiped off the oil from my body, and had me turn over and lie face down. I wanted to ask why, but I was too embarrassed to say, guessing: this is probably part of the service. I later realized I was right. To retain repeat customers, they massage for a sufficient amount of time each time, making the customer feel it's worthwhile.
He started from my back again, but this time it felt different. He gently stroked and caressed my back and waist like a lover... It felt like his hands had more than twenty fingers, as if many fingers covered every nerve ending... He kept stroking me, and I let out soft moans: "Ah... Oh..."
I quickly became aroused; my genitals felt even wetter, and my lower body unconsciously rubbed against the towel beneath me. I heard him take off his shoes, kneel behind me, and gently massage my buttocks and waist. These are both erogenous zones for women, and he certainly wouldn't miss them. His massage felt so good that I instinctively arched my buttocks. But he didn't immediately stimulate my core. He knelt forward slightly, leaned down, and started with his hands, moving them from my buttocks, down my waist and back, then sliding to my sides, reaching forward to touch my breasts! I couldn't resist; when he touched my nipples, I made "oh oh" sounds and inhaled deeply. He responded with a few moans as he continued to rub my nipples. I felt the nerves in my nipples were directly connected to my brain, the stimulation sending waves of sensation through me, as if my whole body was dissolving, and my genitals were gushing with fluid. I unconsciously raised my upper body so he could grasp my breasts, while my body involuntarily and helplessly twisted, continuing to moan "Mmm—ah—mmm." He probably thought my moans were too loud, so he got up, turned up the music, and came back to continue in the same position. Because his caresses of my breasts felt so good, my sensations were focused on my breasts and lower body, and I was less sensitive to my lower back. So, although he was making large circular motions (from my buttocks, waist, back to my breasts, and then back across my abdomen), he mainly focused on my breasts. I must have been very out of control at that moment: moaning with my buttocks raised.
He sat up and gently pressed my lower back. I understood and lay down. He put some oil on his hands and sprinkled some into my buttocks. Oh my god, I knew he was probably going to massage my anus, but then I thought, it can't be, right? Before I could think any further, his fingers were already there.
He was really good at it: he used both hands to alternately stroke my buttocks, and each time he passed my anus, I would get excited. He stroked it repeatedly, and the excitement was like a series of throbbing movements. I guess by then my vaginal fluids had soaked into the towel. He then spoke: "Feels good, doesn't it?" I didn't answer, just hummed softly. He then placed his fingers around my anus, massaging, rotating, and gently wriggling, while his other hand pressed against my buttocks, making me feel so good…
He must have known I was enjoying it, so his professional moans grew louder. By this time, I was starting to feel something for him, and blushing, I said, "You're only using your hands? Can you use your body to push me?" He answered expertly, "You mean using your body? Hmm—I'm fine with that, but you'll have to give me an extra 1000 yuan. This kind of thing is physically demanding." I thought, since we've already done it, and it feels so good, I might as well take it. So I agreed. He pressed himself against me from behind, his arms in front of my head, and I immediately felt his penis rubbing against my back, tickling me. His professional moans grew louder; I didn't know how much of it was genuine, but he must have felt good himself. He pressed down on me further, massaging me with his body while asking, "Tell me if you're pressing too hard." I said, "It's okay, it's good, it feels so good!" This kind of back massage felt better than his hands because of the larger contact area, and it was his sensitive area, giving it a more intimate, skin-to-skin feel. He massaged my back with his body, then gradually moved downwards, circling my buttocks…
I felt a little embarrassed at this point, after all, it was physical contact between a man and a woman, but he probably didn't care and continued, inserting his penis into my buttocks and stroking it back and forth… I was already on the verge of orgasm, and I became bolder, so I simply said, "Could you massage my buttocks again with your hands?" I made this request because his massage of my anus felt so good earlier; I felt like I was about to orgasm. He said, "Okay." Then, he massaged my anus just like before. I felt that "orgasm" was coming soon, so I said, "Keep doing this, don't stop—don't stop..." He said, "Okay, I won't stop." And he even increased the volume of his moans. I'd never orgasmed from an anal massage before, and of course, no one had ever caressed my buttocks for so long before touching my genitals, but this time—I really—orgasmed… My genitals were pressed tightly against the towel, and when he teased my butt crack with his fingers, I felt my clitoris throbbing… Ah… I orgasmed!
Afraid of making too much noise, I bit my lip to suppress my moans… And so, he repeated his professional massage movements over and over, and I trembled and surged towards orgasm again and again…
After each wave of orgasm, I panted as I reached down to touch my genitals: Ah—my vaginal opening and the towel below were completely soaked!
“Sis, do you want to rest for a bit?” I said, “Okay.”
I sat up and saw that I was completely naked, and he was also completely naked, his penis hard and erect… He lifted a corner of the towel and wiped the fluid from my genitals. I felt embarrassed, but seeing his focused expression, I relaxed. Then he gently pulled off the wet towel and placed a clean one on top. He put on his shirt, got out of bed, put on his pants, and went outside...

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The masseuse gave me multiple orgasms.

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